


look at where we are

by whataboutateakettle



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Coda, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-22 19:49:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6092089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whataboutateakettle/pseuds/whataboutateakettle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>five post-scripts and one new beginning //  2.12 through to 2.17</p>
            </blockquote>





	look at where we are

**Author's Note:**

> blatantly ripping off  my own version of the tried and true 5+1 formula. 
> 
> this exists because I wrote codas for most of the last few eps and then didn't know what to do with them.

* * *

 

 

**Beach**

They end up being the last ones on the beach. She’s sitting in front of the fire, fingers digging into the cold dry sand when he drops down next to her. She glances at him sideways, before dragging her eyes back to the fire, watching the embers fly into the air.

“I think it’s safe to say my feelings about Christmas have changed,” he muses.

She lets herself smile slightly, digs her finger deeper into the sand until she feels his hand cover hers and move it until their fingers are intertwined. Her gaze drops; she stares at their hands for a moment, lets the thought settle in her, before looking at him.

“You wanna get out of here?”

Toby scrambles to get up without letting of her hand and she’s pulled up too, steadies herself on his shoulder without actually needing to. And when she looks up, he’s looking at her hopeful, and eager, and she wants to kiss him again.

The fact rushes through her like the cold water from the dam; it goes all the way up her throat until all she can do is exhale. She does. She wants to kiss him again and again and again until time runs backwards and they can make up for what they missed.

She thinks of how her lungs were burning and her heart was pounding and she could feel his hand on her waist and her face and the back of her head. She thinks of how the relief washed through her when the bomb went off. And when his hands curled around her in excitement she didn’t want him to let go. She thinks about Sylvester being happy for a single year with Megan.

“Happy,” he says softly, pulls on her hand gently. She looks at him. “You know you get to buy me dinner now.”

She narrows her eyes, not sure what he’s getting at.

He raises both eyebrows pointedly before his lips quirk into a smile. “That’s your logic. If it didn’t work last time, try it in reverse.”

He’s still holding her hand, and she squeezes it, nods gently. “Fine, dinner’s on me, Doc. After Christmas. Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”

His eyebrows nearly jump off his face this time and she rolls her eyes, pulls at his hand.

He stops her before she climbs into her truck, crowds her against the door and whispers something that sounds like a question and she doesn’t care what it is, just nods and grabs at him until his lips crash into hers, firmly, fervently, finally.

* * *

 

**Rooftop **

Her mother’s laugh is infectious. It’s warm and genuine and Happy can feel her smile growing as she watches her dance around the nursery. Her dad steps forward, joins her in a dance, and her mother looks over his shoulder straight at her.

“Happy!” She calls out, smile wide and she holds out a hand.

Happy does the same but she’s stuck. She looks down and sees her legs encased in ice up to her knees.

“Mom?” She asks, slowly, her voice shaking as she looks back up and finds the whole nursery suddenly covered in snow and ice. And her parents are frozen too. She can still see her mom smiling but it’s cold, her eyes glazed over with ice.

She yells for her mother, desperately tries to kick herself out of the ice, but it grows up her body, trapping her hips and then her waist; the more she struggles the faster it moves until it reaches her chest and neck and she can’t breathe. She can’t –

Happy gasps awake, eyes watering, pulse racing. She inhales sharply, huffs out in short shallow breaths and it takes her a moment to remember where she is. Someone left the string lights on and they shine thought the tent top like stars and she stares up at them as she tries to slow her breathing.

Toby stirs, and she feels his body hugging hers under the sleeping bag and it feels heavy and warm and safe.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice barely a murmur.

She doesn’t know what to say. That she had a bad dream? That she’s _scared_? Instead she just twists under his arm to face him and rests her head against his chest.

His arm tightens and he pulls her closer until their bodies are flush together and she slips her leg between his, hooks her foot around his calf, just wanting to hold on.

She thinks he can probably tell that her heart-rate is too high, that she’s shaking ever so slightly, that she tucks her body to his a little too desperately. But he doesn’t say anything and she wonders whether he's just fallen back asleep, tries to do the same. 

When she wakes up again the string light stars have been replaced by the morning sun, warming the whole tent. Their bodies are still tangled, and their sleeping bag cover is pulled up to her chin and she almost feels too warm.

Still, she wishes they could stay here for a while, uninterrupted, away from the world.

“You’re thinking very loudly you know,” Toby whispers, voice still husky from sleep.

The week has been a whirlwind of near death experiences and secret rendezvous and in the back of her mind she’s been waiting for the other shoe to drop. That’s what the book was about, she supposes. She found it on his bookshelf one night, after he’d fallen asleep, pulled it out because she was surprised he even owned it but once she started flicking though it she couldn’t stop.

She wants this to work. She didn’t quite believe it until yesterday, didn’t quite believe in herself, and didn’t quite believe in him. But she does.

* * *

 

**Garage**

She tiptoes in through the front door, knowing it’s further away from the trailer in the back, and is careful not to jostle the bag in her hands as she sets it down on her work bench. Even Walter’s probably still asleep, or at the very least not downstairs which is good, because explaining why she’s here at before six am is not something she feels like trying this morning.

“You’re here early.”

She nearly jumps, not expecting him to be awake. In fact, him not being awake was part of the plan. But she looks up to see him standing at the edge of the kitchen, spooning cereal into his mouth.

She ignores his previous comment, just grabs the bag she brought in with her and moves to shove it in the fridge as fast as she can, hoping he won’t see it’s another serving of beef and barley she’s picked up on the way in.

“Uh, feeling better?” She asks finally, pouring herself some coffee from the machine and looking at him properly. His hair is wet and he’s changed his shirt, but his nose is still red and he still looks a little exhausted.

He shrugs, “Woke up drenched, but at least my fever broke.” And he still sounds pretty congested.

“Hey,” he looks at her carefully, swallows down another mouthful of cereal. “Do you know who tucked me in last night?”

She swallows down a gulp of hot coffee, suddenly feels very aware that he’s watching her, and shakes her head. “Don’t look at me; you were asleep when we got back.”

Technically, that’s true. He had already passed out on the deck chair when they’d all filed in, tired and relieved. But he’s looking at her like maybe he knows that maybe, technically, it’s not the whole truth.

“Right,” he nods, purses his lips a little. “I just thought that, maybe, you would be concerned. Since we’re – _you know_.”

“Hey,” she hisses, looks over at the stairs for any sign of Walter being awake, before looking back at his with wide eyes. “Just because we’re ... _whatever_ doesn’t mean I’m gonna play nurse for you, okay?”

She looks at him pointedly, and he stares back, spooning more cereal into his mouth while he’s doing so. She’s almost sure he knows she’s lying but she’s determined to stand her ground.

He’s still looking at her with the slightest of smiles on his face, and she looks around the garage one more times before stepping closer to him and dropping her voice.

“And uh, Doc. I’m not planning on getting sick, so you better kick this bug fast okay?”

She sees his eyes widen, and now it’s her turn to smile before she heads back to her desk. Now all she needs is to come up with an excuse as to why she’s here three hours early.

* * *

 

**Kovelsky's**

The beer Toby orders arrives quickly and she glad. It’s been a long day and ending it by lugging two satellite dishes back onto the roof of a diner means she’s ready for a drink. And some food.

She’s about to take a sip from her bottle when Toby holds his out across the table, looking at her with a warm smile.

She clinks her bottle against his before pointing it at him.

“I was being serious, Curtis. It’s your turn.”

Toby’s gaze narrows, he shakes his head. “ _What_? No, no, no. Last time, you used a two-for-one coupon. No way that counts as full turn.”

She watches him take a swig of beer and continue, “I just think each turn should be equal.” He waves his hand emphatically, a look on his face like he thinks his point is made.

She frowns, “Then why does you buying street tacos count the same as me shelling out for two whole pizzas?”

“You only paid for one!” He says indignantly. And she can tell he’s about to continue when their waitress comes by with two plates of food. She friendly and homely and has served them a hundred times before.

“One cheeseburger, extra rare,” she says sliding a plate in front of Happy, and placing the other in front of Toby, “And one Philly cheesesteak. Would you lovebirds like anything else?”

They both frown at the same time, except she can’t quite shake it as fast as Toby does. So she stares at her burger as he thanks her and tells her they’re fine and waits for her to leave before looking back at Happy with her wide eyes and guilty smile.

“Guess this place is more observant than our garage full of geniuses huh?”

She glares at him. “Not good. What if she tells someone?”

“Who is she going to tell?” Toby asks, gesturing over to her with his knife.

“How about our _boss_?” She offers.

“ _Please_. That would require Walter to engage in small talk and there’s a bigger chance of me running of with that waitress than that every happening.”

She narrows her eyes at him, and he smartly stops talking. There’s a long pause between them and she takes a bite of her burger, chews slowly, lets her eyes scan the diner.

“Hey,” Toby says, reaching over and covering her hand with his, pulling it to the middle of the table. “We’ll be fine.”

She drags her gaze to him and he seems to sure and steady and his hand is warm and she nods.

Toby lets go of her hand to take another bite of his own food. “You know,” he adds, swallowing down a bite, “If I get dinner, you’re getting dessert.”

He says it with a waggle of his eyebrows and while she doesn’t want to encourage it, she thinks maybe sometimes his cockiness can work for her.

* * *

 

**Home**

She comes out of his bathroom tying his robe around her waist, just as he’s setting two wine glasses on the table.

“I thought you were saving that for a special occasion,” she muses, spying the bottle of wine in the cooler.

Toby grins at her, pours some wine into both their glasses and holds one out to her. “You kidding?! This _is_ a special occasion. We saved the city!” he says, and holds up his glass before taking a sip. She nods, follows his lead and does the same. The wine tastes good, expensive, not what she usually drinks but she likes it.

“You know,” Toby starts, puts his glass back on the table before taking a step towards her. “I’m especially glad LA lives another day because now I get to do this.” He pulls at the collar of the robe, dips his head and presses his lips to her neck.

“ _That’s_ why you glad Los Angeles didn’t collapse,” she asks, an eyebrow raised. But then he sucks at her pulse point and she hums keenly, her hand twisting into his t-shirt.

He chuckles against her skin. “You’re not disagreeing with me,” he points out before pulling at the robe and dipping his lips to her collarbone.

She shifts, guides him up with her free hand until she can reach his lips and kisses him slowly, but so surely, before pulling away to put her glass onto the table next to his. And then pulling him towards the bedroom.

They’re two feet away from his bed, her hands wrapped around his neck, his pulling at the tie on her robe when they hear a loud knock on his door.

“You’re kidding me,” he groans, rests his forehead against hers. But she immediately straighten, pushes at him.

“Who is it?”

He shrugs, but gestures for her to wait before he heads out of the bedroom to answer it. It takes another few seconds before she can make out Walter’s voice coming through.

She freezes in a panic, stays by the bedroom door until she’s sure that Toby’s not going to say anything. Or let him in. And then slowly, quietly she steps back into the living room. Toby must feel her come in, because he turns his head slightly but he continues talking to Walter and there’s a warm tightness in her chest when she hears what he’s really saying.

She waits until the door is closed again, manages to keep her voice low and steady but inside her pockets her hands are clutching at fabric.

And Toby turns, looks at her, all wide smile and bright eyes, like he wants to promise her the world. He doesn’t wait for her to respond but the words push up through her throat and stretch her mouth into a wide smile as he leans down towards her.

_Me too_ , she says with her lips and her hands and her whole body leaning into him, _me too_.

* * *

 

**Bed**

Toby’s asleep. And she’s tired, exhausted, completely spent but every time she closes her eyes three more thoughts pop into her head.

She can’t believe she shoved a cactus into a man’s bullet would today. She can’t believe she pushed a nail though a man’s skin today. She can’t believe she threatened to quit her job today. Over a relationship.

She can’t believe everyone knows. She can't believe it was so easy when it was just the two of them, when she didn’t have to deal with Paige’s concern or Sly’s disbelief or Walter’s rejection.

There’s streetlight streaming in through the curtains that he’d hastily pulled together when they got in, and it falls across their bodies, right where his hand is outstretched and laying on her thigh and she thinks of the way her put his hand on her leg as she was driving them home, as he was telling her what she’s getting delivered tomorrow. And as much she knows Toby was impulsive and immature with what he pulled with Walter’s credit card, she can’t help but be a little impressed that he knew exactly what kind of drill driver she wanted.

She looks across at him and she thinks about what she told him, what she told Walter and she realizes that there is so much more she wants to say and she really doesn’t know how.

She wants to tell him that as frustrated and furious as Toby can make her, he’s also the only one who can make her feel so calm and confident and collected. That everyone might believe in her abilities, but she’s never met anyone who believes in _her_ as much as he does and sometimes that scares her.

She wants to tell him that the tracking app saved their friends’ lives but it feels like a noose around her neck and it’s inappropriate on a thousand different levels and he’s _wrong_. She does get it. She got it when he went down in the server room, when she got to him and he wasn’t breathing, when she was alone in that icy quarry sure that she would never get out. She wants to tell him that just because it’s new for her doesn’t mean it isn’t there, alive, beating in her chest every time she looks at him.

She wants to tell him she’s nervous about tomorrow, expecting the team, expecting Walter, to be watching their every move and she almost wants him to reassure her. But instead she shuffles towards him, careful not to wake him and curves her body around his, rests her head on his chest.

She wants to tell him that when he tells her he’s loved her for years the sentiment looms over both of them like a giant and all she can think is how and what and why and _of course_.

And when she says she likes him, a lot, what she really means is I love you too.

One day.

_Soon_.


End file.
